


Nocturne d'Pourrir

by Alastael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amputation, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Bondage, Comeplay, Dream Sex, Felching, Filthy Awful Things, Gore, M/M, Violence, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alastael/pseuds/Alastael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturne d'Pourrir

Cas dreams. 

He feels trapped somewhere between terror and pleasure as Dean's fingers rake through his wings, already mangled and dripping blood. They hang at unnatural angles, feathers twisted painfully in the swollen flesh beneath. He is on the bed, his bed, in the bunker, face pressed into the rough cotton of the mattress and hands bound beneath him. The weight of his body pooling there makes his neck and shoulders ache, his hips raised and his body forming an obscene letter of an alphabet Cas doesn't know.

Dean pulls forcefully at one wing, cracking the humerus. Castiel's screams are muffled. 

"I dunno, man. I don't think I can get them out," Dean is pressed behind him, one hand pressed to the center of Cas's back, the other still tangled in the shattered wing.

"Please," Cas sobs, "Please, Dean."

Dean shushes him softly, thumb rubbing reassuring circles at the base of the wing. His hips are pressed into Cas's ass, flaccid penis brushing the crack, and through the haze of the pain, Cas notices his own aching erection. He presses himself back into Dean, moaning, and in response, Dean's fingers dig into the flesh of his back and he wrenches at the wing again. Deans hands are slick with blood and oil and maybe semen, but something within Cas shifts. It feels like relief, or like how he imagines a plant must feel when it's roots are ripped from the soil.

"So close," Dean whispers, kissing a trail down the back of Castiel's neck. 

One more pull, and Cas feels the tissues of his body separating, splitting open and releasing the useless appendage. He's screaming again, but he's coming, painting his stomach and the bloody sheets below. 

"Huh," Dean huffs, fascinated, as he throws the wing aside. It crumples against the wall and Cas doesn't mourn the loss. He feels Dean's fingers inside him then, probing and rough in the hole he's made in Castiel's back. He leans, tonguing at the tender, bleeding flesh, and it's like ecstasy, the way Dean fills the void left by his rotting grace. 

Dean is finally hard, his dick brushing at Cas's asshole, and Cas is moaning, grinding his hips back against it. He needs it, needs Dean to fill him, to make him whole. He will never need another God. 

One hand grips the base of the remaining wing for leverage as Dean finally fucks him, slow and deep, his mouth never leaving the gaping wound. He teases at the tender, torn flesh and laps at the blood. His free hand wanders, searing Dean's fingerprints into Castiel's ribs, hips, and neck. He mutters a string of obscenities when he comes, marking Cas inside and out.

Dean leans back, spreading his cheeks and licking him open, collecting the come that leaks out. When he returns to the wound in his back, fucking it with his filthy tongue and fingers, their fluids coalescing, Castiel comes again with a scream and the knowledge that Dean is forming him into something else. Something new.

A hand returns to the center of his back, bending his spine, while the other wraps around the base of the second wing. 

"Now the other one."

Cas takes a deep breath, and Dean pulls.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Mistakes are my own.  
> Including that mangled French title. Sorry.  
> Part of a larger work that I may eventually post.  
> (whispers) What the fuck did I just write.


End file.
